


with(in) us

by eymelee



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Older Work, sorta sweet?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 12:26:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19251181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eymelee/pseuds/eymelee
Summary: The Legion from The Trapper's viewpoint.





	with(in) us

 

When the fog was restless, it called upon others on a whim. Some beings came into existence in the Entity’s realm and were there to stay while others would merely vanish into the dense mist, never to be seen again. It was all based on the potential they showed in its game. The Trapper bore witness to many such individuals roaming around, most of them collecting materials and thoroughly preparing for their trials. They were the ones with purpose, those who stayed. 

 

Then, there were killers who refused to serve their purpose. The Trapper never saw some of them again, or when he did, they were damaged beyond repair. Broken ones, all of them; and he was one as well, often times unable to bear the baggage any longer, until the Entity would oh-so-gently remind him of his purpose. 

 

Through actions, only vicious blows, never words.

 

So when he had overheard the newest killer _talk_ after emerging from the mist, The Trapper certainly felt something. Firstly, he hadn't heard actual spoken words in a long period of time. Most conversations in the fog, as sparse as they were, were often carried out through grunts, hand movements and head shakes; the only replies were the cries of crows. The Legion was, however, particular. They seem to talk with everything. They chatted with the trees, they gossiped with the mist, bellowed at the birds. And they communicated with themselves, in different pitches and voices. The Trapper thought that they, too, had lost all reason, but he enjoyed overhearing the chatter nevertheless. 

 

Until The Legion approached him and proved that they weren’t as deranged as The Trapper previously thought.

 

Honestly, he hadn't seen it coming. The Trapper was sitting against a makeshift shack conjured by the realm, putting together more traps for his upcoming trial. It was a skeleton building, rusty panels of metal always groaning under the wind's pressure, composing hollow music and feelings. He liked it nevertheless; it offered something solid to lean against and it provided shelter against the violent breeze. It was the closest thing to safety that he had. So when The Legion intruded upon his comfort and lowered themselves on the grass across from him, The Trapper had all but two moments to process it before the swirl of words hit him.

 

"So you look like an OK guy", they started, white mask tilting to one side. "Mind you let us know where we can find some sharp metal 'round this place?" 

 

The Trapper just blinked behind his muddy mask. Lord, he hadn't been addressed in, well, forever. How did one even form words? He could understand what the Legion was saying, so replying should be possible. He dived into his memories to as far as he could, but he couldn't recall a single moment in which he spoke, or was spoken to. That couldn't be right.

 

Rather than attempting to use any long forgotten words, he stuck with the usual. With a grunt, The Trapper motioned towards a pile of rusty metal a few feet from them. It looked unwelcoming and blended well with the rough place the Entity conjured: a graveyard of metal, a weathered brick structure and further on, a huge construction resembling a factory. A coal factory? One which he knew inside out, but couldn't remember. The Legion followed his gaze and absently considered it. The heap did not look very usable, and whatever supplies this new killer needed for their trials, they didn’t seem very eager.

 

"Too much work," they came to the same conclusion, tilting their mask back towards the sitting man. "Thanks anyway." With that they stood, tight leather clothes hugging their body and stepped back and away into the dense mist, until The Trapper was unable to spot them anymore.

 

That marked his first encounter with the new killer, unusual as it had been, but certainly not the last, or least bizarre. Following it, The Legion made a point of waving at him as often as they met or greeting him with short words. The attention he was receiving was overbearing at times, though, something was stirring deep in him. 

 

The second time he had a one-sided conversation with The Legion had been even more peculiar. Sitting at the bottom of the staircase in the factory building, The Trapper analyzed whom was in front of him. The Legion had appeared differently. They had long hair this time, tinted in a whitish red shade, a color The Trapper had not spotted in anything in the realm of mist, as the predominant colors were much duller. They seemed shorter too, their face covered with a mask of a distinct design. Their walk, consisting of brisk movements and an indiscernible skip, was so in contrast with the The Legion's previous demeanor.

 

These details, these recent changes which probably no one took notice of, got The Trapper entranced. So entranced that he had not heard half of what The Legion was talking animatedly about.

 

"...and I am running after them, hell, I can even outrun them!" The Legion furiously motioned their arms towards The Trapper. "But they keep jumping those goddamn windows," they voiced, pointing towards a makeshift hole in the wall, "and I just cannot catch them when they do that." If he could see behind The Legion's mask, he was sure they were pouting. A much higher pitched voice this time, thought The Trapper, and such a burst of vitality. So different from before.

 

They remained in silence for a few moments, hearing only the groaning of the metal pillars. The Trapper understood their problem, and knew how to deal with it. He knew a lot, the numerous trials were bound to teach him a trick or two. The problem lay in how to convey that strategy, considering his failed attempts at voicing any of his ideas. Standing, he motioned The Legion to follow him towards the window. It was barely half his size, but large enough for a survivor to leap it to safety. Which was indeed frustrating, The Legion's earlier feelings mirroring his perfectly. The Trapper gestured to his companion to hop over the hole, as in demonstration. 

 

"You wan' me to pretend I'm a rabbit?" The Legion buzzed. The Trapper simply nodded and made enough space. 

 

"Okay, cool, lemme show you how to pro jump this baby," they exclaimed as they made way and sprinted towards it. The Trapper had not expected them to be so agile, almost as the twin-tailed, quick and quiet survivor. But experience had something to say, and right before The Legion was past the window, he managed to grab them by their hoodie and haul them back in the building. 

 

A few moments passed, and The Legion was still on the floor. The Trapper thought that he might have overstepped, but those thoughts were soon interrupted by the bouncing killer.

 

They were impressed, nevertheless. "Wow, dude that was like super fast!" they burst out, quaking with excitement. "Ya can catch them bunnies like that?!" With another nod from The Trapper, The Legion seemed satisfied with their lesson, excitedly waved goodbye and moved onto their next trial.

 

And if The Trapper smiled behind his mask when The Legion showed him a thumbs up afterwards, no one would have known.

 

Meetings as such went on. They varied from quick glances around the campfire, in which The Legion, the first Legion, the lean and foxy Legion, would raise a hand in greeting before vanishing in the thick smoke. Sometimes he could hear the piping voice chatting on around the woods but before he could turn around, they would be gone. 

 

A while later found The Trapper in a wide corn field with few metal machines here and there. It might have been a farm, a poor idea of a farmland, he concluded. The Entity hadn’t been quite detailed when it conjured that land, as the area was so barren that the killer had trouble doing anything. These moments were far in between, time in which he couldn't construct anything, no materials to tinker with. It was discouraging and it made him restless.

 

So he would pass the moments until the next trial by using his atrocious tool to swing at the frail corn. Reaching further and recovering after his attacks faster were his objectives. Survivors were nimble these days, he had to keep up. He truly hated the farmland, but slashing at the corn proved to be relaxing, almost therapeutic. 

 

As he was cutting through another bundle of corn, a figure clad in black, hands in pockets, stood a couple feet away. The Legion's mask was discernible, but yet again, slightly different. They stood taller, their shoulders broader, dark hood pulled over. Another Legion, recognized The Trapper. This one gave off a vibe different from the two he had previously met, but closer to an echo of himself. In the passing silence, for once, he felt a certain likeness to this killer. 

 

In an abrupt moment, The Legion took out their weapon - a short blade, close to a dagger, held in a precise, firm grip. The Trapper soon lowered his. Challenge was the last thing he wanted to convey to the other. 

 

"I'll swing with you," were the only words The Legion uttered. They were one of few words, thought The Trapper.

 

He moved back to his strikes and the Legion followed. The slashing of the stalks resumed, the killers altering their movements at first, but slowly flowing in sync. Hack, rebound, hack, rebound. All was in rhythm for The Trapper, cutting sounds muffling his surroundings and agitated mind. He got so lost into it, he never felt The Legion stop his swinging halfway through the exercise. 

 

When he regained his focus, The Trapper vaguely noticed The Legion staring at how his arm would move with each cut. He opted to go through the motions slower, giving the other the chance to observe in better detail. The Legion probably understood his idea, as he followed and grasped the motions better.

 

Continuing their practice, The Legion slowly started changing their swings, which made their attacks better, surer. He could see them gaining more confidence with each attack, swinging and recovering at a faster pace. Some more practice and they would be on par with himself, he curiously thought. And with that, his rooted heart gave off a strange beat. Was it joy over the other's actions? Was it a bit of pride?

 

It was definitely both.

 

Meeting the "last" Legion followed shortly after. The Trapper had made a point of scavenging around the recently-appeared snowy cabin when the slender killer approached him. Another change, another difference in everything The Legion had showed previously. They came up close to The Trapper, stopping just a few steps next to him. The proximity got him confused as he wasn't used to being so close to well, anything and anyone. 

 

Once again, the mask, the manner and overall presence differed. They had a smaller frame, keeping their shoulders lowered and head high. Strength. Feminine strength? All his thoughts would soon be confirmed.

 

"Wanted to say my thanks, big man," started The Legion, their softer voice carrying in the chilly breeze. "You gone and made Susie super happy, haven't seen her this pumped in a while." 

 

The Trapper reflected on the name Susie but before he could silently question it, The Legion continued. 

 

"She's smaller than me, pink highlights and is a literal rabbit?" The Legion asked while shifting to look up at The Trapper's mask. "You helped her out with the windows." 

 

So that was Susie, recalled The Trapper. She had been so lively in their previous encounter, a joy to deal with.

 

"You probably don't know us," The Legion interrupted his recollections. "First one you met, that's Frankie. Mind you, he doesn't like to be called Frankie, I just like teasing 'im." The Trapper couldn't see, but he was sure The Legion was smirking behind their mask. “He’s like our boss, but not really. Each of us prefers to pull the strings sometimes.”

 

"You also met Joey, he's the tough one. Thanks for helping us out with the swings, sorta needed it with all these quick survivors," they ended, taking their time to enjoy the wind mixed with silence. 

 

He was waiting for the last introduction, yet when it didn't come, he took it upon himself to inquire. He pointed a finger at the distracted Legion, hoping that the meaning would carry through. And The Legion seemed... surprised, judging by the sharp turn of their head. The Trapper got even better at reading his masked fellows. 

 

"I am... Julie, been a while since I had to introduce myself," she murmured. "We talk with us mostly, not so much with outsiders." The Legion started moving away, stepping inside the wooden cabin. He followed closely behind, taking it as an invitation. 

 

"This was our turf, this is where we became," she turned around to face the other "well, we became us." 

 

The Trapper had had a hunch, but it was confirmed then. The Legion weren't irrational, but were actually multiple people. A chill ran through him, part of it due to the certain unease he felt towards the Entity, the way it worked to bring its playthings in and how it shaped them.

 

Part of it was because of the cold. And it was goddamn freezing. 

 

A chuckle escaped The Legion while moving in closer to The Trapper. "You don't do well with the cold?" they questioned. "No problem, you'll get used to it," taking his silence as answer. 

 

"You can come inside anytime, by the way. You good to us, we pay it back, that's how we work," The Legion revealed more about themselves, almost as if expecting something in return.

 

The Trapper was about to thank them, but held back. Did he still have a voice to do so? 

 

As if reading his mind, The Legion carried on. "We never got your name. We've been calling you Trapper, well, 'xcept for Susie, she's named you 'Big Teach' because of your little lesson." At that, The Trapper couldn't help but snort. It was pleasant, able to hear another’s thoughts directly rather than playing guess.

 

"Well, you tell us one day, OK?" The Legion turned to leave, out of the cabin and into the puffy snow. He followed them, eager to get out of that cold realm. But it felt wrong, incomplete. The Legion delivered so much yet he never gave any answers back.

 

Before they could separate, he cleared his throat. Loud. As loud as he could, just so he could get the other's attention. The Legion stopped and placidly waited for what was to come. Only the icy air between them. And The Trapper dug deep, under the piled snow and frozen ground, through layers and layers, deep into his memories for an identity, any piece he could use, eager to grasp even a bit of knowledge.

 

And he found it, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. 

 

"Evan," air out and voice raspy; standing a little taller, straighter. "Evan," louder the second time, enough to be conveyed through the wind outside and blizzard inside.

 

"I'm Evan, and thank you."

**Author's Note:**

> as usual, thanks to ExasperantMadman for saving this from the grave.


End file.
